


Catching Lightning

by FebruarySong



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Eventual Romance, F/M, Humor, Modern Girl in Middle Earth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-07 01:37:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3156074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FebruarySong/pseuds/FebruarySong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evelyn is smack in the middle of finals week when she is struck by a drunk driver and finds herself dumped in a strangely familiar forest. All she wants is to go home, but she doesn’t know how -- so all she can do is tag along with a group of short, grumpy bearded men on their quest to slay a dragon. // From the author of "The Awkward Adventures of Meghan Whimblesby."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I wish Meghan was here to enjoy this with me,” Andrea sighed. “I know she would have been really excited about Legolas being in the movies.”

Evelyn didn’t really remember much about her sister’s college friend. She had only been fourteen at the time, and boyfriends and proms and shopping malls had seemed much more important back then. Still, even seven years later, she remembered a few things.

“I somehow don’t think Meghan would care about Legolas at all,” Evelyn said with a smile to soften the words. “Anyway, I can’t believe you bought advance tickets a month before it comes out.”

“Evie,” Andrea said in an injured tone. “This is the midnight showing of the last Middle earth movie. It’s going to sell out. Of _course_ Stephanie and I bought our tickets early. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“I’m sure,” Evelyn replied. “Two of my finals are the next day. Speaking of, I need to get going so I can finish that project before class tomorrow. Thanks for dinner though.”

“You got it, babes. Want the leftovers?”

A couple of minutes later, Evelyn had tucked a tupperware of leftovers into the passenger side and buckled herself behind the steering wheel of her car. It was cold enough to see her breath, so she cranked the engine and turned the heat onto high before turning out of her sister’s apartment complex. It was only a twenty minute drive back to her dorm.

Her phone pinged, and she waited until she rolled to a stop at a red light to look down at it.

 _What’s the xtra credit assignment for tmrw?_ one of her classmates asked.

 _Its pg 45-47 in the workbook._ She typed out the reply one word at a time, pausing between each to glance back up at the road. The light turned green, so she eased onto the gas and entered the intersection.

She heard a sudden roar as she was engulfed in blinding headlights. The last thing she saw was the huge grille of a semi-trailer truck bearing down on her before everything went dark.

* * *

As Evelyn drifted into consciousness, she assumed that the weight of fabric around her body was just a blanket, since she must be in a hospital bed. She opened her eyes to pitch darkness, which was odd because she could hear the muffled sound of doctors talking.

_I must be on some really good pain meds,_ she thought hazily, assessing each part of her body in quick succession. She really couldn’t feel any pain at all, but the room was awfully stuffy and she still couldn’t think straight. She reached up to rub the sleep from her eyes only to realize that the blanket was _over_ her head and seemed to be tucked into the head of the bed.

She was too bleary to process why someone would tuck her in like that. But she could still hear the doctors talking, so she tuned into what they were saying.

“…yesterday, mutton today, and blimey, if it don’t look like mutton again tomorrow!” The voice sounded British, and Evelyn couldn’t help but feel a bit indignant that they were complaining about their lunch when she was trapped in a hospital bed. She opened her mouth to say something when another voice chimed in.

“Quit yer’ griping. These ain’t sheep, these are West Nags. And we found that little morsel earlier, that’ll add some flavour.”

“Excuse me,” she croaked out. “Can you help me?”

“Oi, it’s awake!”

Evelyn didn’t particularly like this answer. “Yes, and—”

“Don’t talk to it, William,” a third voice scolded. “You get attached sometimes and it makes supper very uncomfortable.”

“S-supper?” A cold chill washed over her and with it came clarity in all five senses. With a hollow lurch in her gut, Evelyn realized that she was not in a bed at all – but tied into a roughspun sack. _I’m being kidnapped,_ she thought as she went completely still.

The voices resumed their discussion while Evelyn fumbled desperately with what was happening. She had read somewhere once that the best way to escape a kidnapping was to stay calm and aware of your surroundings, and possibly try to reason with the kidnappers. She forced her breathing to slow down and tried to listen as closely as she could, since she couldn’t see anything.

Was she _outside?_ Evelyn thought. What kind of kidnappers would take her so far out of the city that she couldn’t hear any cars or traffic or _any_ sort of noise pollution at all? The crackling noise must be a campfire and there were enough crickets that they could be in a forest, but beyond that Evelyn had no idea where she could be.

 _Oh my god, this is a prank,_ she realized with a wash of relief. _This is a finals week prank. I don’t have time for this!_

“Hey, assholes!” she shouted, struggling to get her arms above her head to pull the sack off. “Okay, you’ve had your fun. It’s time to—”

“Shut up,” one of the voices said, and she felt a tremendous blow across her abdomen that knocked the wind out of her. She sucked in a choking breath and curled up as best she could in the restricted space.

“Don’t poke it, Bert,” another voice said. “You’ll spoil the – oi, what’s that?”

There was a yelp from someone new and Evelyn went back to trying to get out of the sack, desperate to see where she was. It took a minute of blind searching but she finally found an opening. It was barely big enough to poke her head through, and tied too fast to loosen it enough for her shoulders. She immediately forgot about the sack, though, as soon as she looked up at the scene before her.

Her captors weren’t college students. They were _trolls._

And they were currently capturing someone else.

“What are you then? An oversized squirrel?” one of them asked the small figure that they encircled.

“I’m a burglar—ah, Hobbit,” the little person replied.

“Can we cook ’im?” another troll asked.

“ _WHAT IS HAPPENING_?” Evelyn shrieked.

Her shout had drawn the attention of the three trolls, and the little man used the distraction to start to slip away. In a weird déjà vu way, this whole thing seemed really familiar, and that was freaking her out even more. Evelyn wanted to scream _get help and come back!_ but before she could, the nearest troll noticed him and grabbed at him with a curse.

“He wouldn’t make more than a mouthful, not when he’s skinned and boned!”

“You’re going to _eat_ us?!” Evelyn choked out.

All three trolls ignored her, preferring to chase their other prey. She lay stock-still in dumbfounded shock for a moment, absorbing the situation, and then exploded into motion. There was no way she could loosen the opening of the sack enough to get her whole body out, so she rolled herself up onto her knees and tried to stand up inside it. It was difficult to keep her balance with her arms stuck at her sides, but after a floundering moment she managed to get all the way to her feet.

It seemed like the trolls were having some difficulty actually grabbing the other person, so Evelyn tried an experimental hop while they were still preoccupied. It wasn’t too much worse than a sack-race, except the ground was littered with roots and rocks and it was harder to keep her footing. That hardly mattered though, because all she could think of doing was getting away from this madness and finding help to come back for the other guy, who hopefully wouldn’t be eaten by the point she managed to do that.

A second later, she thought she heard a squeal and a new voice behind her, and she snatched a glance over her shoulder. She couldn’t see much through the underbrush, and she didn’t think she could keep her balance long enough to turn fully for a proper look. It didn’t matter though, because in that moment she hopped head-first into a warm body.

The person was solid enough to keep steady despite her barreling into him, but she bounced off and tumbled backward to the ground. She glared up at whoever it was, only to see a man staring back at her, his blue eyes filled with as much confusion as she felt. His blonde hair was long and braided back from his bearded face, and he had two swords in his hands. There was something uncomfortably familiar about him, too.

“Terribly sorry…?” he said just before rushing off. As he did, Evelyn heard what could only be described as a war cry and the sound of many heavy feet running.

A horrible, horrible suspicion was beginning to dawn in her gut. She popped back to her feet and, against her better judgment, shuffled back toward the clearing. It had turned into battlefield, with the three trolls lumbering against a beehive of outlandishly dressed figures wielding axes and swords and all sorts of impossible weapons.

_This is not happening._

It finally clicked what the first man had called himself – a Hobbit _._

_This is from those darn movies that Andrea likes so much._

She had seen the first two when they were in theatres, and Andrea had threatened her with a marathon of them before the last one came out. But it had been almost two years since she had seen the one with trolls, and most of the plot was fuzzy to her. _Surely they escape – I mean, they have a ton of adventures after this, right?_

Evelyn’s thoughts were interrupted by several ponies thundering past her, which startled her so much that she lost her balance and face-planted awkwardly into the dirt. She growled in frustration. If she could only get this ridiculous sack off!

“Bilbo!” someone cried out, sounding a little afraid.

She craned her head up to see the silhouettes of all the dwarves standing in an uncertain faceoff with the trolls, who had grabbed the Hobbit by all four limbs.

“Lay down your arms,” the lead troll said, “or we’ll rip his off.”

There was a pause, and Evelyn narrowed her eyes against the brightness of the fire, trying to see which way the tide would turn. After a moment, though, the dwarves’ weapons all clattered to the ground, and the trolls wasted no time in stuffing the Hobbit into another brown sack.

“Oi! Where’s that little one we picked up earlier?” one of them asked.

 _Maybe if I just gently roll away…_ she thought, but she didn’t even time to make a half turn before a huge hand closed down on her and hefted her the length of the campsite. She landed in a heap a couple yards from the fire and lay still, jarred by the impact. Any question of this whole thing being a dream had already been dispelled by the level of pain she had experienced so far.

Just when she had caught her breath, the trolls tossed a couple more bagged dwarves there, and she caught a boot across her ribcage. Everybody was yelling angrily and she was facing away from the fire, so she couldn’t see what was going on, but it seemed like the trolls were prepping some dwarves for immediate consumption and piling up the rest for later. Somebody landed across her legs, pinning her, and then another landed on her shoulders, which made it almost impossible to move her head.

 _I’m going to die of suffocation at the bottom of a Dwarf heap,_ she thought. But the trolls had finished their preparation and the dwarves had subsided into grumbling instead of shouting.

“Would you _shift_?” Evelyn snapped at whoever was across her shoulders.

“Terribly sorry,” a familiar voice said, and his weight awkwardly shuffled to rest more on her lower back. “I’m afraid that’s all I can manage.”

She didn’t really know the etiquette of responding to someone on top of you in a pile of dwarves waiting to be eaten, so she didn’t bother to reply at all. Her mind was churning a mile a minute anyway, trying to figure out what to do.

 _Somehow I got transported into this story,_ she thought. _Like the kids in Narnia or something. There’s gotta be a way to get back… right?_ Surely there was someone in this world that she could ask about it – but definitely not these Dwarves. How on earth could she explain that she was from another reality to this group of bearded, testosterone-fueled ax-wielders?

Just then there was a commotion amongst the Dwarves, all of them yelling in surprised anger and a few kicking out uselessly. Evelyn bit back a curse and uselessly tried to kick back at them.

“What do you know about cooking Dwarves?” one of the trolls was asking Bilbo.

“Uh, th—the secret to cooking Dwarf is, ahh…” Bilbo trailed off.

“Yes? Come on,” another troll said impatiently.

 _This is ridiculous,_ Evelyn thought. _Of all the magical places I could have been transported to, and I am at the bottom of a heap of hairy guys in burlap sacks._

The more that she thought about it, it was probably better to just play along as a local so they didn’t think she was completely out of her mind. At least until she could find someone who knew about this kind of thing. _Wait a second, isn’t there a wizard in this? Or Elves, or something?_

The trolls were still arguing with Bilbo about proper culinary techniques for preparing and cooking Dwarf-meat, but Evelyn didn’t pay them much attention until she caught something about worms in his tubes and a huge weight struck the top of the pile.

“Would you _stop_ crushing me,” Evelyn ground out at the universe, because by now just the effort of breathing was starting to make her chest ache.

“Terribly sorry,” came that voice at her back.

“I wasn’t talking to you specifically,” she snapped, then realized it really wasn’t his fault. “But… thanks for the thought.”

The others were all starting to fuss and rumble again, this time about parasites. One voice in particular was raised in mortified offense, “We don’t have parasites! _You_ have parasites!” and Evelyn thought perhaps the blonde Dwarf on top of her sighed an especially long-suffering sigh.

A rather purposeful kick from somewhere above silenced them all, and then, slowly, they began to chime in with, “I’ve… got… parasites as big as my arm?” until the trolls interrupted in irritation.

“What would you have us do then, let ’em all go?” the leader asked.

“ _Well…_ ” Bilbo shrugged.

“You think I don’t know what you’re up to?” a different troll rumbled. “This little ferret is taking us for fools!”

 _How do trolls even know what a ferret is?_ Evelyn wondered just the wizard himself appeared at the top of a boulder across the campsite, his voice booming,

“The dawn will take you all!”

The trolls were unimpressed. “Who’s that?”

“No idea.”

“Can we eat ’im, too?”

The wizard – wasn’t his name Godot or something? – struck the boulder with his staff, splitting it cleanly down the middle to allow the blinding light of the sunrise to pour into the clearing. Evelyn closed her eyes against the sudden brightness, then peeked them open again when the trolls began to howl. She couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for them as they turned to stone, even though they had meant to eat her. Still, the Dwarves raised up a cheer for their savior.

“Okay, okay, this is very exciting,” Evelyn tried to be heard over them, “but can we _please_ get up?”

She wasn’t sure if they actually heard her or not, but it seemed like the Dwarves had the same idea. Bilbo very easily slipped out of his sack and hurried to help the grey wizard with the Dwarves tied to the spit, while the rest of the pile churned unsuccessfully for a moment as everyone tried to get free.

Huffing in frustration, Evelyn strained to get out from underneath them so that at least she wasn’t getting roughly jostled anymore. Her own strength surprised her, and she rolled away enough for the one across her back to thud onto the earth. Apparently that actually gave him enough room to reach a blade inside his coat, because a second later he sliced his way through the burlap.

“Fíli, at your service,” he said, kicking the material away and rolling up onto his knees.

“Um, thanks?” Evelyn didn’t quite understand how he was servicing her until he reached out and quickly cut away the opening of the sack around her neck. “Oh, thanks!” she said, elated to be free, but he had already turned away to help a dark-haired Dwarf who seemed to be intent on ripping open his sack by brute strength.

As Evelyn used the slash in the burlap to tear it open more, she realized that she was wearing an outlandish costume made up of heavy boots, loose trousers covered by a long, split skirt, a beautifully worked leather jerkin, and a long coat. _What…?_ she wondered, looking at her hands that were now covered in fingerless gloves. Glancing around, she realized that she was about the same general size as her companions, although maybe a little shorter than most.

 _Am I... Am I a Dwarf?_ Another look down at herself seemed to confirm it. She had never been slim, but the sturdiness in her build felt more compact, a solidness that hadn’t been there before. She took a deep breath, and then another. _Okay. Okay. I turned into a Dwarf… Dwarf lady? Woman? What are they called?_

Most of the others had gone over to the huge spit at the center of the clearing to help get the Dwarves off. They had managed to put out the fire, but the beams were too tall for all of them except the wizard – his name was _Gandalf!_ – so some of the Dwarves turned to the pile of their belongings that the trolls had tossed aside.

One of the Dwarves, however, had taken a moment to collect himself, and now approached her. “Balin, at your service,” he said, his long white beard bobbing as he bowed at the waist.

“Um, Evie, at yours,” Evelyn replied, uncertain about protocols with this sort of thing.

“May I inquire why a dwarrowdam is traveling alone so near the Lone Lands?” he asked, and it could have been patronizing but he was so sweet and genuine that Evelyn didn’t automatically bristle. Anyway, it seemed like it was time to explain herself, and Balin was definitely the senior-most member of the group based on his hair. It made sense that he would interrogate the newcomer.

“My name is Evie,” she stalled as she scrambled to remember what she could of the world-building in the movie so that she could present a convincing story. “And I was with a group of traveling merchants. But they were…” she trailed off, trying to figure out why should would be alone. “…They were killed.” _Well that’s morbid, Evie._

Balin’s expression shifted from polite interest to concern. “By the trolls?”

“No,” she said, remembering that the trolls hadn’t known what Dwarves were. If she was going to lie about who she was, she didn’t want to risk getting caught on a technicality. _What are the bad guys in this place called?_ “By… goblins. I had gone away from camp to, ah, collect firewood. When I got back, the goblins had killed everyone and were picking through our things. I stayed hidden in the trees until they left, and I’ve been trying to find my way ever since.” She really didn’t know how credible any of this was, but she figured if she sounded confident it might work.

“Where do you call home, lass?” Balin asked.

“I don’t really have one. My parents were travelers, too – I’ve always been on the move.” That much _was_ true; her dad’s company had moved them every two years for as long as she could remember. Being in college for three and a half years had been the longest she’d ever lived in one place.

Balin studied her for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “Would you wait here a moment?”

“Sure,” she said, figuring he had to go confer with the other Dwarves about her presence. He bowed again with a twinkle in his eye, and headed in Gandalf’s direction. The wizard was talking to a dark-haired Dwarf that Evelyn remembered was very important for some reason, while the other Dwarves had all gotten free and were sorting through their possessions.

Evelyn heavily sat down on a tree stump, taking in the scene. This was all so surreal. It seemed impossible, but there was no way this was a dream. The ache in her ribs and the absolute clarity of her surroundings told her that this was very, very real. She reached up to run a weary hand across her face.

And felt something that should definitely _not_ be there.

“I have a _BEARD_?!”


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t so much a full beard as it was heavy scruff from her jaw to her chin, although it didn’t seem to go over her upper lip. Evelyn clapped both hands over her face in dismay as a horrible thought occurred to her – _am I a MAN?_ She quickly reached down to grab her chest, and breathed a sigh of relief when she felt the familiar fullness of her breasts.

Then Evelyn realized that the entire company was staring at her.

She let go of her breasts as if they were on fire and immediately switched to pretending that she was brushing dirt off her shirt. No one seemed to know what to do about her outburst, but Evelyn figured if she could just ignore them all long enough, maybe they would move on.

One of them did not get the memo. “Surely you didn’t miss your first beard coming in, lass,” said a ginger Dwarf with the fullest beard she had ever seen.

She glanced up, thinking, _Oh no. That sounds like a first period._ “No, it’s just… it’s grown in so much!” she said weakly. "Been awhile since I saw my reflection."

“How long have you been traveling alone?” the important one with silver streaks in his dark hair asked. Apparently Balin had at least gotten that far in his recap of her story.

“I’m not sure,” Evelyn said. She really, really wished that everyone would stop looking at her, because she had just found out that she had legitimate facial hair and it was making her feel a little fragile. “A long time.”

“Well, it’s a lovely beard,” Balin said with an air of finality as he turned back to his council with Gandalf and the other Dwarf. The rest of them also went back to their business, but she could still sense them looking at her and speaking to each other in undertones.

Evelyn sat miserably and tried not to be obvious about touching her face. Normally she wasn’t too fussed about body hair, but this was a lot to take in. At least it wasn’t itchy, like she had always assumed beards were. It was actually surprisingly soft.

“Excuse me,” a new voice said, and she jerked her head up in surprise to see a Dwarf with an impressive bowl-cut hairdo and knitted… everything. He held a rucksack and a sheathed sword out to her. “Do these belong to you? We found them with our things, but no one recognizes them.”

“Oh,” she said, taking the items on reflex. Of course they weren’t hers, but it wasn’t like there was anyone else to claim them. “Thank you. I’m Evie.”

“Ori, at your service,” he said with a hesitant bow. All this ceremonial stuff was starting to put her off a little bit – was she supposed to bow in return? Was there a handshake? She just wanted them to stop offering their services to her.

She was saved from a response, however, by Balin reappearing. Gandalf and some of the other Dwarves had already disappeared, although Evelyn caught a glimpse of the wizard’s grey robes heading into the trees. Ori took this opportunity to slip away.

“Well, lass, if you are inclined, I would offer you our protection at least through the Lone Lands,” Balin said. “We are traveling east. Perhaps in time you can join a convoy to the Iron Hills?”

“That sounds good, thanks,” Evelyn replied. It hadn’t even occurred to her that there had been a possibility of being left behind, but she was grateful that it was off the table for now at least. She couldn’t remember if their quest was a secret, and wondered if they might send her away at some point to protect themselves. Still, that was a bridge to cross only if it came to that, and hopefully she would be safely home well before then.

“In that case, we had better keep up,” Balin said. Everything about him was twinkly somehow, from his eyes to the upturned toes of his boots. Evelyn had the sense that he should have been a grandfather but wasn’t, so he expended all that grandpaternal energy on everyone around him.

All the other Dwarves had gone into the woods, but Balin seemed to know which direction to go as he made his way into the underbrush. Evelyn stood up and hefted her new pack over one shoulder and the sword over the other, feeling slightly ridiculous for having a sword at all. She shrugged, mostly to convince herself that she was fine, and started to follow Balin. The first step she took made her almost stumble. Now that she had her feet under her properly and the adrenaline had worn off, she realized that her center of gravity had shifted dramatically. All her proportions were off, lower to the ground, like a stone had been tied around her waist to weigh her down.  

Pulling a face, she settled into her balance and tried another step. It felt all wrong, but at least she could stay upright. _This is going to take some getting used to,_ she thought with a grimace. But then she had to hurry to keep up with Balin, because she really didn’t want to get lost, especially with the stone trolls looming nearby.

It felt more like waddling than running, but she hurried after him anyway. The ground sloped down and led into a thicker tangle of trees, broken more frequently by huge limestone rocks jutting up from the ground. It took a little bit of maneuvering to pick her way over the roots and moss, so by the time Evelyn caught up, almost everyone had already spread out under an enormous rock overhang. Gandalf, the important Dwarf, and a few others were nowhere to be seen.

She found herself near the blonde Dwarf where he leaned against a boulder, checking the edge of one of his double swords. Evelyn wondered if she should do the same with the sword on her back just for appearance’s sake, but decided she would probably just end up nicking herself and looking like an idiot. Instead, she put her bag on the ground and tried to casually figure out how the straps on her new possessions were actually supposed to go across her body.

The blonde Dwarf – _Fíli_ , she reminded herself firmly – glanced over at her, but didn’t say anything. He sheathed one sword behind his back and pulled the other from the opposite side of the scabbard.

“Sorry I ran into you earlier,” Evelyn said, since the silence felt a little awkward.

“No apology needed,” he replied with a polite smile. “I should have heard you coming.”

“Well, I _am_ a master of stealth,” she said, shrugging as if to say _that’s just how it is._

He gave her a half-laughing look, as if he wasn’t sure if she was joking or not but wanted to cover his bases in either case. He didn’t say anything more, so Evelyn turned to examining her fingernails as he sheathed his second sword and started to inventory the myriad of smaller blades all over his person. Evelyn couldn’t help but notice how _many_ he had; just when she thought he had exhausted his arsenal, he would pull out another throwing ax or dagger.

“You have a lot of those… things,” she said lamely.

Still no verbal reply from him, but he shot her a wry smile and a nod. It was beginning to dawn on Evelyn that this particular golden-haired Dwarf seemed to be of very few words. She went back to staring at her hands.

But it seemed that her arrival had finally been noticed, because just then another Dwarf bounded up, practically radiating energy and only moderately-veiled excitement. Now that Evelyn could get a proper look at him all outfitted in his gear instead of a burlap sack, she remembered that he was Fíli’s brother and he had an almost identical name, which was confusing.

“Kíli, at your service,” he said with something that might vaguely pass as a hasty bow.

“I’m Evie,” she replied. She had returned the offer of services enough times by now that she was wary of doing it again, because if she really didn’t know what it meant if they took her up on it. Still, this one had the tall, dark, and handsome thing going for him – well, relatively tall. So she belatedly added, “at your service,” and tried not to look like a thirteen-year-old.

“Balin said your company was slain by Orcs,” Kíli said, looking very intense.

“ _Kíli_ ,” his brother said with a disapproving frown. 

“I only meant to offer my condolences,” Kíli replied in a wounded tone, but then turned to Evelyn with contrite eyes. “I _am_ sorry if I upset you.”

“You didn’t bother me. Thank you for the condolences,” Evelyn said. She hurried to change the subject so they wouldn’t ask her more details about the supposed attack. “Um, so, why are we just waiting here in the forest?”

“Uncle Thorin and Gandalf are checking over the trolls’ cave,” Kíli replied, all upbeat energy again.

 _That’s the important one’s name,_ Evelyn remembered. She hadn’t known there was a family connection between him and the brothers, though. “Oh,” she said. “I didn’t know that trolls had caves.”

“It’s how they stay out of the sun,” Kíli replied.

“So they don’t turn into stone,” she supplied the rest of his sentence, catching on. Inside, a part of her was screaming at how ridiculous the whole thing was – standing in a forest, talking about trolls with two Dwarves, _being_ a Dwarf herself. _I’m handling this really well so far,_ she thought with an out-of-body clarity. _Am I in shock?_

Kíli had obviously run out of things to say already and instead switched to staring at her, which Evelyn found a little bit unnerving. She snuck a quick peek at Fíli, and even though he wasn’t looking at her, it was plain that he had also noticed by the way he was smiling at the throwing dagger that he was cleaning. This stretched on for a few awkward seconds that felt like eternity, and she was just about to break the silence again when Kíli was called away by one of the Dwarves lower in the dell.

“Excuse me,” he said, cutting another hasty bow before bounding away just as he had come.

Once he was out of earshot, Fíli glanced up at her with a grin. “He’s jealous of your beard.”

“What?” Evelyn said, unconsciously bringing a hand up to her jaw. Sure enough, she still had the beard.

“He’ll get used to it.” His attention shifted to something over her shoulder, and he sheathed the dagger in his hands. Evie turned to see Thorin and Gandalf appearing from the mouth of the cave.

“Dori, Ori, go round up the ponies,” Thorin said. “Perhaps you can take better care with them than their previous minders.” Fíli’s posture changed at that, shifting a little straighter as two of the Dwarves hurried back in the direction of the trolls’ campsite.

Meanwhile, Thorin glanced around for a moment until he caught sight of Evelyn. He made a purposeful line in her direction, and Fíli inclined his head to her. “I should check on Kíli,” he said, stepping away before his uncle reached them. Evelyn watched him go and felt, irrationally, that she had just lost an ally.

“Balin tells me that you have traveled alone for some time,” Thorin said as he approached. It wasn’t lost on Evelyn that he neither introduced himself nor offered his services. “How came you to be captured by trolls?”

“I’m not really sure,” she replied honestly. “I had an accident and blacked out, and the next thing I knew I was already tied up.”

“What sort of accident?” He folded his arms across his chest and looked very imposing, and Evelyn knew that he was judging her within an inch of her life.

She couldn’t very well tell him that a semi truck had hit her car. “I fell,” she said. By this point, lying was coming a little more easily to her. “I wanted to get high enough for a proper look around, so I climbed a tree. But the branch broke from under me and I fell pretty hard. The trolls must have found me after that.”

“What is your trade?” Thorin asked.

“What?” Evelyn had thought the worst of the questioning was behind her, but now it was becoming clear that the real interrogation had only begun. She was going to have to give some more thought to her cover story if she didn’t want to get tripped up.

“You said you traveled with merchants,” he replied slowly in a tone of voice that didn’t quite say it outright, but implied that she was incredibly stupid. “What wares did you make to sell?”

“I’m not a merchant, I’m a musician,” she blurted out, desperately hoping that traveling minstrels existed here. Besides, it was something of a half-truth – she had taken violin lessons through most of high school, and a little during college. “I played the fiddle and one of my companions sang sometimes.”

“And how did a fiddler come by a sword?” Thorin’s eyes shifted to the blade that she had finally figured out how to strap across her back.

“I—I took it,” she said, lifting her chin. She knew it was perfectly reasonable for him to be suspicious, but the distrust was grating all the same. “After the goblins left the camp, I took what I could. I don’t really know how to use it. It just seemed like a good idea to have something to defend myself with. Not that it helped much with the trolls.”

Something in his stance relaxed at that, and guarded lines of his face softened. “One dwarrowmaid alone could not have challenged three trolls,” he said. “You have endured much, it seems. I cannot promise that your road will be any safer with us, but you are welcome to our protection for a time.”

“Thank you,” Evelyn said. “Balin said you were heading east…?”

Thorin opened his mouth to reply, but he was distracted by a sound farther in the forest. He turned his head to listen, reaching for the sword hilt over his shoulder as he did. Evelyn tried to remember what had happened next in the film, but it was all a jumble and she just knew that they went from one danger to the next.

“Something’s coming,” Thorin called to the company, a warning note in his voice.

Considering the fact that they had just been captured by trolls, Evelyn expected them to try to slip away quietly in case the source of the sound was an even bigger and badder threat. But no, they all collectively surged toward the noise, brandishing weapons and making even more of a racket.

“Stay together!” Gandalf cried after them.

But they all rushed ahead anyway, and Evelyn didn’t have much of a choice except to follow them into whatever danger was in store.


End file.
